


Give My Regards to Broadway, Remember Me to Herald Square

by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)



Series: Will and Frederick's Post-Hannibal Homestead [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A Whole Lot of Ridiculousness, Frederick's Channeling Raul Esparza, M/M, Sort of Kind of a Crack Fic, Will is a Broadway Newbie, a little bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighthawkms/pseuds/Jay%20Auris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will catches Frederick giving his Broadway best to Will's guest room. He refuses to give Will another performance, but Will isn't that easily dissuaded.</p>
<p>(Aka. The One Where Frederick is a Secret Musical Theater Fanatic)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give My Regards to Broadway, Remember Me to Herald Square

**Author's Note:**

> This is sort of a sequel to "I've Got a Collar Full of Chemistry For Your Company," so if you're wondering why Will and Frederick are already in a relationship at the start of the story, go back and read that one!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were only a few items on the grocery list that Will had gone out for. Some avocados, tomatoes, a bottle of toothpaste, shaving cream, and the weird vegan snack food that's slowly been creeping its way into Will's cupboards over the last few months. Consequently, he can take all the bags in one go, instead of making multiple trips from the car to the house.

This is a welcome thing, considering the weather. There's the beginning of a snowstorm brewing as he fumbles with his keys, cursing and once again promising himself to get the house keys some caps so he can tell them apart. That'll never happen, but it still makes him feel better to pretend it will.

When he finally unlocks the door, the wind blasts him into the house, slamming the screen shut behind him.

_Winter is certainly coming_ , he thinks.  _That Game of Thrones DVD set should be here in a few days as well._

He closes the inner door with his foot, and as it slides shut, he hears a sound. It's faint, but it's echoing through the walls of his house, specifically from somewhere upstairs.

Will puts the groceries down on the table, shooing the dogs away and listening quietly.  _Music_ , he thinks, recognizing the sound of instruments. There's a piano playing a steady melody, a violin streaking deeply over its strings, and definitely a trumpet or a French horn tooting out a note or two. 

There's a voice as well. The words sound like a muffled percussion from the ground floor, thumping through the instrumentals, and he can't place the voice from this distance. But as Will slowly climbs the stairs, the instruments get louder and clearer, as does the singer.

_"-will want you to share a little, a lot-"_

The third stair up creaks and groans, a dissonant note that drowns out any other sounds. The next one isn't any better, or the next one, so he hops up the rest of the flight as quickly and lightly as possible. When he reaches the landing, a clear stream of melody is echoing through the cracked door of the upstairs bedroom.

"S _omebody sit in my chair, and ruin my sleep, and make me aware of being alive...being alive..._ "

The instrumentals increase in tempo and volume as Will slips silently down the hallway, and the voice of the singer rises to meet them. It's a deep, melodic baritone, strong and sure, utterly enchanting as it flows up and down through the music, dancing a two-step with the violin, a duet with the piano. The voice doesn't seem recorded either, it actually sounds like it's coming from a person inside the room.

_No,_  Will thinks as he creeps like a spy towards his own guest room.  _It can't be..._

_"Somebody pull me up short, and put me through hell, and give me support, for being alive..."_

Will's almost reached the doorway, and he pads more softly the closer he gets, not wanting to frighten the singer and needing to confirm his hypothesis.

" _Make me confused, mock me with praise, let me be used, vary my days..._ "

As Will quietly nudges the door open, praying it doesn't creak, the music reaches its crescendo, and Will sees a sight he wouldn't have believed in a million years.

" _But alone, is alone, not alive..._ "  Frederick is facing the dresser, back turned to Will, voice filling the room and almost drowning out the instrumentals blasting out of the iPod dock sitting in front of him. He's loose limbed, arms out to his sides, head tipped back, and he doesn't even seem to be aware of anything but the music.

" _Somebody crowd me with love, somebody force me to care..._ _"_  he bellows to the imaginary audience in front of him. His voice drips like silken honey through Will's eardrums, and Will is entranced, frozen in place by the beauty of it all.

" _To help us survive, being alive, being alive, being... alive!"_

The last chords rip through Will's chest like a shock wave. As Frederick lets go of the final note, the spell is broken, and Will steps fully into the room, clapping like mad.

Frederick must jump three feet in the air, spinning around and grabbing the dresser for support, staring at Will with wide, terrified eyes. "W-Will?!" he squeaks, twitching like an animal ready to bolt.

"Woah, woah, calm down," Will says, holding his hands out in front of him, approaching Frederick like he's a scared stray. "I'm sorry, I thought you knew I was back."

"I-I didn't hear your car pull up." Frederick straightens up and pressing a button on the sound system. The instrumentals of the next song halt, and the room is empty with silence.

"The music was too loud," Will explains. That's not really important, though; there's something more pressing to address. "You have a really good voice."

"I- I did a lot of theater in college," Frederick mumbles, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking at his shoes. "You never really lose the music if it catches you."

"You didn't want to keep going after you left school though," Will says, a statement more than a question.

"I'm not nearly good enough." Frederick shrugs. "Besides, theater is much too unstable of a career choice for someone as... intellectually-minded as myself." There's a look in his eyes, a fading light that makes Will think that he's speaking someone else's words, not his own.

"Well, I only caught half of that performance, and it was pretty fantastic." Will finally reaches the spot in front of Frederick and rests his hands on the other man's shoulders. Frederick looks up at him; Will doesn't meet his eyes, instead examining the knot of the tie he's wearing. "I wouldn't mind if you sang around the place more often. You're a better singer than the dogs, at least," he jokes.

"I don't sing in front of other people anymore," Frederick says, pulling away. There's a coldness radiating from his frame. "I didn't think you were home, that's all." He steps around Will, heading out the door. "I'll start putting the groceries away."

Will frowns as he watches Frederick go, studying the way he holds himself, a crooked limp and sharp shoulders warning others off, even Will himself at the moment.

He thought they'd been making progress. Whatever this  _thing_  is they they've made for themselves, this thing where Frederick sleeps at his place at least four nights a week and has a toothbrush in Will's bathroom and a designated side of the bed, it's good for both of them. Sometimes Will comes home and finds Frederick on the couch, dozing quietly, buried under a blanket of furry, warm bodies, and said bodies don't run to the door immediately to greet Will anymore, because they're already comfortable where they are. There's a sign in that, Will thinks. Something about contentment and a need filled for the both of them.

But Will's afraid that whatever progress they've made was just shattered with that little intrusion into Frederick's privacy. 

_Why is he so embarrassed by it?_  Will wonders.  _Why would you hide a voice that beautiful?_

His mind alights on a new idea, and instantly it sounds appealing. One way or another, he's going to get Frederick to sing.

 

~

 

His first attempt to crack Frederick's singing ban comes when they're driving to a doctor's appointment. Will's got to get some routine blood work done, and Frederick offers to take him. The man has spent the last week in the house, waiting to hear back from job applications, and taking Will's dogs for increasingly longer walks, coming back looking more haggard each time. Will's afraid he's going to start chewing the furniture at this point. A change in scenery will do him well.

"Mind if I pop this in?" Will asks as Frederick drives, carefully avoiding the newly formed snow banks from last night's snowfall. "Brian's letting me borrow it. He said I was a heathen for never listening to it."

"As long as it's not that screamo nonsense that my nephews are listening to," Frederick says. "The last time I went over my sister's house, they almost blew my eardrums out."

"I'm five years younger than you and so is Brian," Will mutters, but he lets it go, taking the CD and pushing it into the player. The percussion begins to stream from the car speakers, and Will sees Frederick's eyes light up in realization.

"You- this is Le Mis!" he sputters as the Overture begins to play. "You didn't get this from Agent Zeller."

"You're right, Jimmy's actually the one with an extensive Broadway CD collection," Will replies. "He might let you borrow an album or two if you ask him."

"Turn it off," Frederick says, his expression as flat as his voice.

"I told him I'd listen to it before I saw him again," Will says. "And I don't own a CD player." His secret weapon is that he knows Frederick won't take his hands off the wheel while driving, no matter what.

"Will, I am not singing and this won't work... Besides," Frederick mumbles, "I pretty much exclusively listened to this soundtrack in my 20s. I'm all Le Mis'ed out."

Will's face lights up with a wide, giddy smile. "The things I learn about you, Dr. Chilton," he teases. Then he notices that the car is slowing down. "What are you doing?"

"Since you refuse to comply with my request, I'm going to have to fix this myself." Frederick pulls to the side of the road, parks, and then ejects the CD, shoving it down into the pocket of the driver's side door before Will has the chance to grab it. "No more CDs, no more music."

They ride the rest of the way in silence, a drawn, annoyed look spread across Frederick's features. Will sighs and leans his head against the window.

Plan one failed. Maybe if he had started the disc at  _I Dreamed a Dream_  he would've had better results.

On to the next plan then.

 

~

 

Unfortunately for Frederick, Will's bathroom door locks from the outside, not inside. It's an odd quirk of his old house, but it's the perfect advantage that Will needs for this next attempt.

This time, he steals the iPod dock that Frederick's brought to the house, sitting outside the bathroom door as Frederick takes a shower, scrolling through his music collection.  _Bowie, Zepplin, Rolling Stones, Depeche Mode..._  Frederick actually has a pretty substantial collection, and Will doesn't know the names of any Broadway stars or many musicals. But he does know that the  _Original Broadway Soundtrack_  album section is a good place to look.

_Oh wait, even I know this one_ , Will thinks, reaching up to lock the knob with a click. He places the dock down, pushing it up against the wood so the music will flow through the crack under the door .

There's a bit of a dialog at the beginning of the song, so he fast forwards through it, hearing the shower turn off and Frederick's footsteps thumping on the linoleum. The handle jiggles, but stays shut.

"Will?" Frederick shouts through the wood. "Why is the door locked?"

" _SOMETHING HAS CHANGED WITHIN ME, SOMETHING IS NOT THE SAME.._ _._ "

The first few lines of the chorus shriek from the speakers, and Will covers his ears, not realizing how loud he'd put the sound. He hears Frederick yelp, and then there's a heavy thump from inside the bathroom.

"Sorry about that!" Will calls through the door as he lowers the sound a few decibels. "But I'm not unlocking the door until I can hear you singing over-" he checks the name of the artist- "I-deena Menzel? Yes, you need to be louder than her."

"Will, I think I actually might have sprained something!" Frederick yells. "This isn't funny, open the door!"

"You're a terrible liar, Frederick, if I haven't said so before," Will calls.

"I'm not lyi- oww, shit! I think my ankle is swelling." He lets out an audible, pathetic whimper, and Will hears him grab the toilet seat. It squeals as he loses his grip, and then there's another thump. "Please, I'm really being serious about this!"

Will is torn for a brief moment, but then he curses and gets up, unlocking the door and opening it to find Frederick sprawled on the ground, leaning up against the tub, towel draped over his groin. His leg is stretched out, and there's a definite redness to one of his ankles.

"Come on," Will sighs, leaning down and tugging Frederick up, wrapping an arm around his waist for support. "We'll get you some clothes and then get an ice pack. You probably just bruised the bone when you fell."

"Next time you try to ambush me with music in the bathroom," Frederick says, limping pathetically down the hall, "maybe do it before the floor turns into a slip and slide."

 

~

 

Frederick's smart; he takes the iPod dock into the bathroom from now on whenever he showers at Will's place. Will's going to have to get more devious if he wants to win.

His next plan takes the form of remembering something Frederick whispered to him one time when they were in bed, when Will's hands wrapped around Frederick's wrists as he pounded the other man into the mattress, and Frederick begged him not to let go. So they next time they're working towards sex, kissing and grinding against each other on top of the mattress, Will pulls out a pair of handcuffs from the bedside drawer. Frederick eyes them with an approving gaze, and tugs his shirt up over his head, tossing it to the floor. Then Will presses him down flat, and with two clicks, cuffs him to the headboard.

"This is... unexpected," Frederick says as Will slides the his pants down. "I thought you didn't like restraints after your time at the hospital?"

"I don't like  _me_  in them," Will says. "You, however, are another story." He watches Frederick's face as he rests a hand on the man's cock, palming it through the fabric of his briefs. Frederick takes a short breath and lets his eyes flutter shut, and he stays still as Will folds the band of his briefs down, letting his cock spring free.

Will takes Frederick in his mouth, tonguing the base of his shaft, listening to the rattle of the cuff chain as Frederick strains against it. He takes his time, teasing Frederick's arousal out, keeping him held in place as he laps at the man's cock, drawing curses and a deep whine from his throat.

When Frederick starts begging, Will knows he has him. Frederick opens his eyes as Will sits up and slides Frederick's knees together, plopping himself on top of them and pinning the smaller man to the bed.

"Wh-what are you doing," Frederick pants, jerking at the cuffs. "That felt good."

"It can keep feeling good," Will explains. "But if I'm doing this for you, you need to do something for me."

Frederick nods eagerly. "Anything, name it."

Will's mouth forms into a wicked grin, and he leans forward, whispering in Frederick's ear. "I'll keep sucking your cock, but you have to sing to me while I do it."

The cuff chain jerks hard against the headboard. "Will, damn it, no!" Frederick growls, glaring at him. "I told you a dozen times, you're not getting that out of me."

"Well then you're not getting out of this bed for a while," Will says, sitting back and grasping Frederick's cock in his hand, playing with it and listening to the other man gasp. "I can keep you at the edge all night if I have to." As if to demonstrate, he dips his head and licks a trail up the shaft of Frederick's cock, then drops back onto Frederick's knees as he struggles and tries to break free.

"This-" Frederick pants, still glaring, "-this is sexual blackmail. I demand to be released at once!"

"Too bad," Will replies, smirking as he strokes Frederick's cock with a loose, lazy grip. "The tables have turned, Dr. Chilton, and it's only fair that I get to interrogate you for something that  _I_  want for once."

Frederick keeps struggling, but Will's too heavy and without the use of his hands, he's trapped. Finally, he goes limp, and Will thinks he's won, but then-

"Is that really what you want this to be about?" Frederick yells. The force of his outburst knocks Will off balance. "Some sort of sick revenge where you hold me against my will and violate me?"

"What? No, that's-"

"Because that's what it's starting to feel like!" Frederick shouts, and now he's shaking, his fists balled as he strains against the cuffs, his eyes wide and glistening with moisture. "Since when do you get off on taking somebody's consent away?!"

"No, that's- that's not it  _at all,_ " Will urges, a knot twisting in his stomach as it becomes apparent what this is doing to Frederick. "You're right, I'm sorry, we'll stop."

He rolls off of Frederick's legs and grabs the key for the cuffs off the table, quickly unlocking them. Frederick springs away as soon as he's free, stumbling off the bed and padding backwards, arms wrapped around his scarred stomach in a defensive curl.

"Frederick..." Will reaches a hand for him, but he bolts, fleeing the room. "I'm sor-" The door slams before he can finish the word.

_Shit_ , Will thinks, throwing the cuffs at the wall in an angry outburst; they bounce off and land on the floor in a clattering pile. He flops back and sighs.  _I fucked up_. _Maybe I do need to stop this. He'll never let me near him again if I keep trying to ambush him_.

Will's got one more idea; it's less of an ambush and more of a surrender. It probably won't work... but when it doesn't, at least he can say he's exhausted every possible option.

 

~

 

It takes a few days for Frederick to start speaking to Will again, and when he does, it's with short, clipped sentences. Will sleeps in the guest room, knowing Frederick prefers his bed, and hoping that this gesture might be taken as a sign of repentance. He's surprised Frederick hasn't just gone back to his own house, but for some reason, as mad as he seems to be at Will, the prospect of being home alone is likely worse.

One night, about a week after the incident with the cuffs, Frederick surprises him by sliding into bed next to him. "You're still not forgiven," Frederick mutters, flipping his back to Will and turning off the light. "But I'm getting there."

Will wonders if he should wait to deploy this last plan, but if he gets it over with now, well, Frederick's already pissed at him. This will just extend this particular period of anger instead of creating a second one down the line.

He shuts off his own light, and they lay in the dark, listening to each other's breathing. Outside, the wind howls, battering the shutters. Still no dogs in the guest room, no wonder Frederick likes sleeping in Will's bed.

Will waits until it feels like the tension in the room has settled, and then he takes a deep, deep breath.

" _Every single day, I walk down the street, I hear people say 'baby so sweet'..._ "

The light on Frederick's side clicks on, and he sits up with a jolt, looking down at Will.

"What are you  _doing_ ," he says, the mortification evident on his features.

"You said you wouldn't sing. However, you can't tell me that  _I_  can't sing." Will continues from where he left off. " _Ever since puberty, everybody stares at me, boys girls I can't help it baby..._ "

"No, no no  _no_  you do  _not_  sing Rent songs to me while I am trying to be mad at you!" Frederick stammers, jerking the sheets in his curled fists. "This is ridiculous, your pitch is all off and your timing is terrible, how many times did you bother to listen to that number before you decided to mutilate it like this?"

"I memorized the lyrics," Will proclaims. "Listened to the song two or three times. If I'm doing so badly, I'm sure you can clue me in on how to fix it."

Frederick sets him with a long stare. Then he sighs and shakes his head. "Why do you want to hear me sing so badly?"

"Why  _don't_  you want me to hear you so badly?" Will counters, sitting up. "I know you don't think your voice is bad, and you certainly aren't one to be shy about your talents, so I honestly don't get this."

" _Merde_ , fine, you really want to know why?" Frederick asks. Will nods eagerly. "Because singing in front of people just reminds me how much I miss the stage. Alright? Are you happy? You've discovered my deep, dark secret; I am a showy drama queen who- who loves the theater and would have no problem joining a production of Cabaret if someone asked me to."

"... That's it? I already knew you were a drama queen," Will informs him, grinning and leaning forward, planting a kiss on his lips. "Do you need me to find you a theater troupe? Drive you to practice? Support you financially while you try to start an acting career?"

Frederick gives him a bewildered look. "No, no of course not, and you can't be serious about that last one" he protests.

Will shrugs; it was kind of a long shot offer.

Frederick shakes his head and continues. "Look, I like psychiatry. I like the path I've chosen. But sometimes I do wonder how different my life might be if I'd done something else." His hands are rubbing up and down his chest, tracing the lines and whorls of his scars with his fingers.

Will snorts. "You're not the first person to consider that line of thought, and you won't be the last. If I had stayed a cop, or even chosen a different career, would I ever have met Hannibal Lecter? Would Beverly Katz still be alive? Would other people be dead if I hadn't stopped him? Would I have ever met you?"

"Probably not," Frederick reasons. "At least to the last part. I might not be alive either if you hadn't caught him. But that's not the point."

"No, the point is that I saw how happy you were when you were singing that song, and that's a side of you I'd like to see more often," Will says. Frederick smirks and opens his mouth, but Will presses a finger to it. "Wait, just listen. If it's too much of a pain to sing  _for_  me, then sing  _with_  me. I know I'm not the best singer, but you could coach me, and teach me some songs, and that could be a thing we do besides watching Netflix and having sex all the time."

"I like the sex," Frederick mutters. "I'd prefer if we cut into our Netflix-watching time and not our sex-having time."

Will grins. "Is that your professional opinion, Dr. Chilton?"

"Don't call me that here," Frederick insists, draping his arms over Will's shoulders and kissing him gently. "I like hearing my first name come out of your mouth."

"Fine," Will mutters against his lips. "But I'm still waiting for your answer to my offer."

Frederick pulls back and looks him up and down. He sighs. "I'm not sure I can dissuade you any longer, and it pains me to listen to you screech. We're going to be working on getting you on pitch, first of all."

"Speaking of which, you interrupted my song," Will says. "I was hoping to finish it." He starts singing again before Frederick can stop him. " _So be kind and don't lose your mind, just remember that I'm your baby..._ "

Frederick rolls his eyes, but he's grinning with a delight that warms Will's soul. "Now the chorus," he says, and as Will opens his mouth, Frederick joins him.

" _Take me for what I am, who I was meant to be, and if you give a damn, take me baby, or leave me_."

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to longpigismywordoftheday on tumblr for the beta read!
> 
> I'd like to apologize to Broadway for this fic. I think I may have accidentally murdered it by writing this.
> 
> Cards of bereavement for Broadway can be sent to nighthawkms.tumblr.com. Also, follow me for fic updates, random ChillyWilly prompt fills, and other such fandom nonsense.
> 
> Fic inspired by Raul Esparza's performance of "Being Alive." Look it up, it's on Youtube, and it's fantastic.


End file.
